#208: stories

What a weird day, piloted on one hour and 30 minutes of sleep (12 a.m. to 1:30 a.m. and then off to Portland then turnaround come back again to be at work in Astoria by 7:30 a.m. The moonset was lovely and the sunrise beautiful). I don't think I'm tired but it's like when they're drilling in your mouth at the dentist's office and though you can't feel the pain, you know it's going on. So. I don't feel tired, but I know I must be. Deep down. Like maybe in my ankles? Kidney? Something. I don't remember being this moody since...well, while we're being honest, I guess it hasn't been that long. Since the bail hearing probably when the victim's autopsy report came out and I felt like throwing up and kicking things.

Here's a teaser of what I wrote for today's paper. This is a test to see if you want to keep on reading... Let me know if you don't. I learn from this. I'm curious.

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When 10-month-old Kaiya Maclay sees a photo of her mother, her eyes widen, her mouth opens to form a perfect oval. She pushes her tongue out against her gums.

“That’s her excited face,” says grandmother Judy Bleecker.

If it’s a photo Kaiya has seen many times before, she will make that face and dance, waving her arms and kicking her legs.

She’s old enough now to understand that the people in the photographs aren’t alive. She sees her mother’s picture and knows it’s only a picture. The real person is somewhere else.

But if Kaiya is shown a photograph of her mother that she’s never seen before, she’ll look at it intently then take it in her hands and turn it around to peer at the back.

She is looking for Jess Maclay, but she can’t find her.

Maclay, 30, a caseworker with Clatsop Community Action, died in a car accident Sunday morning, Feb. 20.

The car she was driving hit a patch of ice on U.S. Highway 26. She lost control, spun across both lanes and smashed into a fire truck parked on the side of the road.

It was the third car accident to happen at that exact spot that morning.

Emergency responders cut Jess, her husband TJ Maclay and their daughter Kaiya out of the car.

Jess was taken by helicopter to Portland where she was pronounced dead soon after arrival.

Here's the FULL STORY.

recap

This week started out looking like it would bore me to tears (on top of getting me up at 4:30 most mornings to go proof pages in the newsroom) but then it exploded everywhere.

A sample, taken from Wednesday/Thursday:

Wednesday began at 4:30 a.m. I proofed and wrote all morning and afternoon and probably ran around to a few interviews, but I honestly don't remember. I had a few hours off between 3 and 5. At 5 I went to a meeting, got out of that around 7. Back the newsroom to write up a story about the meeting and to answer e-mails, listen to voice messages. Probably left around 8 or 9.

Thursday I didn't have to go in early (Thank you, night meeting). Instead I came in around 9, rewrote the radio story and recorded it, answered emails, made phone calls. 10, walked over to meet with historical society people, interviewed, toured the county jail, back to the newsroom around 11 to start writing the story and make more phone calls regarding a story about an addiction treatment agency that's leaving the area unexpectedly after 10 years of service. I got the tip on that story yesterday afternoon and a message from the woman later that night while I was in the meeting. Anyway. 11, I'm back in the newsroom, making phone calls about that, working on the history story.

12:30, I head out to another series of interviews across town, these dealing with local rehab centers. 1:40, back in the office, have a message from the district attorney's office about a case. 2, I head over to the courthouse to look over records about the case and make phone calls to corrections.

So at this point I have three stories I'm working. Because of our new schedule they all have midnight deadlines.

In the end, court story is dropped and I progress with the remaining two. Go to bed at 10:30 (but that's my fault. I'm reading "Persuasion" for about the billionth time and I always get so caught up in it and anxious about Anne Elliot's welfare). Didn't sleep well all night. I probably woke up at least five times convinced that I'd forgotten to set my alarm, or (if I remembered I'd set my alarm) that I'd forgotten to turn my ringer off of silent.

Wake up call was 4:30 this morning. Back to proofing. For God only knows what reason my computer monitor was a violent magenta color when I turned it on. It almost gave my editor a heart attack. These early morning proofings are just fraught with perils unknown. A few days back, I think it was Wednesday, the door alarms went blaring off just as we were wrapping up the paper. There were only five of us in the whole building and the alarm was just SCREAMING. Ummm, and, oh yes, the alarm's main loud speaker is located right above my desk. I couldn't focus for about twenty minutes after the thing had been shut off.

But I digress. Today I got to come home after the paper was sent. Took a shower (you know you want to know ever detail of my life) and then slept from about 7:30 until 10:30 at which point I dragged myself back out of bed and drove to an interview. From that interview I went to the newsroom to write and from there, at 12:50 I sallied forth to a law meeting/conference/panel type thing I'd been invited to attend. We got to learn about Stalking and how people can Stalk you through anything you've ever allowed into your life from your potholders to the dead cell phone you forgot to recycle, throw out or give away when you got your new phone.

So that's what I've been up to. Here are some of the fruits of my laboring. Don't laugh.

Things like this make me happy about the justice system

ADDICTION

And last, and least (in terms of how it will interest and affect you guys who live nowhere near here...not because it's not important. I don't mean that. And if I did, I probably shouldn't say it online...which is something I've been thinking about. It's frustrating to have this blog and always worry about who's reading it. I rely on my very common name. There's millions of us out there. I dare people to find me in that sea of Wilsons. However, as a journalist and some sort of professional, I have to think about this. Hmmmmm. Perhaps in another post)

Anyway: GRANT MONEY!!!!

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The scariest thing about this week--in addition to my almost complete dropping of normal life, human interaction, and regular meal consumption--is how great the possibility for errors grew with each passing day. As more information piled on quickly and constantly with less time to sift it and dump it as I went along, I quickly became a post-it-note addict. If it wasn't written down, I'd forget and my stories (by Thursday night) were taking a long time to get through. I was writing convoluted sentences that were backing into their subjects like cement mixers. Awful.

But it's the weekend! So yay! I'm going to make myself a very good dinner tonight. I'm even going to open the bottle of Trader Joe's wine because, hooray, I don't have to save it because, hooray, I'm going to Portland tomorrow for the day and I can get more. Also, I'm going to go to Target. Gosh, I miss Target.

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Meanwhile, I'm going to finish "Persuasion." No matter how many times I read it, I always forget about The Letter. Jane Austen can be a snob, but I will love her forever.